«'>>**> 


jk  l>  i> 

•-  1^  ^  *  t 
*  f»  >  II  O 


^'v 


PR 

6025 

M177 

P6 

1918 

MAIN 


UC-NRLF 


B    3    122    3bS 


OD 


ATLANTIC  READINGS 


Number'  f}  ."  ■ '. : 


A  PORT  SAID  MISCELLANY 


BY 


WILLIAM  McFEE 


Zht  latlantic  iWontljlp  |3rtS£( 


BOSTON 


•   •••,•••     • 


f'tplfHoht,  IPIM,  by 

THK  atlantk:  m<»ntiily  company 


iTt>i*  i-Ki'f  •'«•  .>ri.iiri>llv  I  iit>Ii«)ir<t  111  Tiir  Ati  tNnr  XtoMini  t  fut  Xtut'  li.  tOIK' 


//1 1  /7 

A  PORT   SAID   MISCElIaNY'" 

BY    WILLIAM    MCFEE 

There  has  come  upon  us,  suddenly,  one  of  those  inex- 
plicable lulls  which  make  the  experienced  seafarer  in  the 
Mediterranean  recall  bygone  voyages  out  East.  It  is  as  if 
the  ship  had  run  abruptly  into  some  sultry  and  airless 
chamber  of  the  ocean,  a  chamber  whose  cobalt  roof  has 
shut  down  tight,  and  through  which  not  a  breath  is  moving. 
The  smoke  from  the  funnel,  of  a  sulphurous  bronze  color, - 
even  while  our  trail  yet  lies  somnolent  in  a  long  smear  on 
the  horizon,  now  goes  straight  to  the  zenith.  The  iron 
bulwarks  are  as  hot  as  hand  can  bear,  as  the  westering  sun 
glows  full  upon  the  beam.  Under  the  awTiings  the  troops 
lie  gasping  on  their  rubber  sheets,  enduring  silently  and 
uncomprehendingly,  like  dumb  animals. 

Far  ahead,  the  escort  crosses  and  recrosses  our  course. 
Still  farther  ahead,  a  keen  eye  can  detect  a  slight  fraying 
of  the  taut  blue  line  of  the  horizon.  Signals  break  from 
the  escort  and  are  answered  from  our  bridge.  I  turn  to  a 
sergeant  who  is  shambling  to  and  fro  by  the  machine- 
room  door,  and  inform  him  that  Port  Said  is  in  sight,  and 
that  he  will  be  in  harbor  in  an  hour  or  so. 

And  then,  just  as  suddenly  as  we  entered,  the  door  of 
that  heated  chamber  of  the  sea  opens  and  we  pass  out 
into  a  warm  humid  wind.  The  wind  and  the  news  wake 
everybody.  The  soldiers,  who  have  encamped  on  our 
after-deck  during  the  voyage,  suddenly  disj)lay  a  feverish 
activity.  Rations  are  packed,  rifles  are  cleaned,  and  I  am 
in  the  full  tide  of  popular  favor  because  I  permit  oil- 


\  r(mr  said  mis('ellany 

r\"()irs  to  br.  t<-plrni.slMtl  in  (li«'  nmchino-rooni  nnd 
furtirsh  tk«WJc  J>hCr^r.<.s  fnifinients  of  oM  cnicn*  cloth  wliirh 
gh<!.««ubufMf^"tJ'b)t'"5»n(l  silver^'  j;los.s  to  the  holts.  Ijitcr, 
I  hitiTso  |n»i)ularfhat  I-Couhl  ahiiost  .stanrl  for  I'arhanicnt, 
for  I  tfll  tlic  sergeant  that  each  man  can  fill  his  water- 
iKiltle  with  i<"e«l  water.  Which  they  j)n>coe(l  to<lontoncc, 
so  that  sai<I  water  gets  rc<l-hot  l>cforc  the  moment  of 
(liscnil)arkati()n ! 

Hut  take  a  look  at  these  men  on  our  after-tieck  while  we 
are  coming  up  to  I'ort  Said.  Ymi  Ikivc  never  seen  them 
before  and  you  will  not  st'C  them  again,  for  they  arc  hound 
for  Hagdad  and  l)eyon<l.  They  are  ver>'  rejjresentative, 
for  they  are  of  all  ages,  races,  and  regiments.  They  are 
going  to  join  units  which  have  been  transferred.  Three 
were  hours  in  the  water  when  their  ship  was  torj>edoed. 
Several  have  come  overland  across  France  and  Italy,  and 
got  most  pleasantly  hung  up  at  entrancing  cities  on  the 
way.  Others  have  come  out  of  hospitals  and  trenches  in 
Macedonia  and  France  and  Flanders.  They  are  Irish, 
Scottish,  Welsh,  and  Knglish.  The  sergeant,  now  tlnimb- 
ing  a  worn  ix>cket-book,  has  seen  ser\'icc  in  India,  China, 
Egypt,  and  France. 

Behind  him,  on  the  hatch,  is  a  boy  of  eighteen  who  wears 
the  uniform  of  the  most  famotis  regiment  in  the  British 
Army.  He  is  small  for  his  age,  and  he  has  a  most  engaging 
smih".  When  I  asked  him  how  on  earth  he  got  into  the 
Army  lie  explained  that  he  had  '  misriprisintcd  his  age.' 
He  liJLS  u  chum,  a  gaimt  Highlander,  who  scarcely  op<'ned 
his  lips  all  the  voyage,  and  who  sat  on  the  hatch  sewing 
buttons  on  their  clothes,  darning  their  st«K"kings,  and 
reu«ling  a  religious  j)amphlet  entitled  Poing  it  A'oir. 

There  is  another  sergeant .  to«).  a  y»mng  gentleman  going 
home  to  get  n  commission.  He  is  almost  to  1)C  desrril>ed 
flUl  <»ne  apart,  f«>r  he  hoMs  no  (•<>iiver»-e  with  the  others.    He 


A  PORT  SAID  MISCELLANY  8 

walks  in  a  mincing  way,  he  has  a  gold  watch  with  a  curb- 
chain  on  one  wrist,  a  silver  identification  plate  and  a  silver 
slave-bangle  from  Saloniki  on  the  other,  and  an  amethyst 
ring  on  one  of  his  fingers.  As  the  Chief  Engineer  said  to  me 
one  day,  he  needed  only  a  spear  and  a  ring  through  his 
nose  to  be  a  complete  fighting  man.  However,  in  this 
war  it  is  unwise  to  make  snap  judgments.  I  understand 
that  this  young  gentleman  has  an  aptitude  for  certain 
esoteric  brain-work  of  vast  use  in  artillery.  He  never  goes 
near  the  firing-hne  at  all.  Our  young  friend  Angus  Mac- 
Fadden  has  that  job.  When  the  young  gentleman  with 
the  slave-bangle  and  gold- mounted  fountain-pen  and  ex- 
pensive Kodak  has  figured  out  certain  calculations  in  his 
dug-out  oflBce,  Angus,  who  resembles  an  extremely  war- 
like bellhop,  with  his  gaunt  Highland  chum  beside  him, 
will  scramble  up  out  of  his  trench,  make  a  most  determined 
rush  toward  a  given  point,  and,  in  short,  complete  the 
job,  whatever  it  may  be. 

Now  it  is  all  very  well  to  talk  about  the  triumphs  of 
mind  over  matter,  but  my  interest  is  not  with  the  young 
gentleman  at  all.  He  may  carry  Omar  Khayyam  in  his 
kit.  He  may  call  the  'Shropshire  Lad'  'topping  poetry.' 
He  may  (as  he  does)  borrow  Swinburne  from  my  book- 
shelf. My  interest  is  with  Angus  and  his  chums.  I  look 
out  of  my  machine-room  window  and  watch  them  getting 
ready  to  disembark.  They  are  very  amusing,  with  their 
collapsible  aluminium  pannikins,  their  canvas  wash- 
basins and  buckets,  their  fold-up  shaving  tackle  and  tele- 
scopic tooth-brushes. 

There  is  one  tough  old  private  of  the  Old  Army  among 
them.  He  has  the  Egyptian  and  two  South  African  med- 
als. He  never  seems  to  have  any  kit  to  bother  him.  I  see 
him  in  the  gnlley,  peeling  potatoes  for  their  dinner,  deep 
in  conversation  with  the  i)antryman  and  smoking  an  Irish 


4  A    I'oirr   S\II)    MI^(  I  I  I  ANY 

rlny.  H«'  kii<>\v>  all  the  twcnly-onc  moves,  as  wc  say. 
Then  there  is  a  very  yiniii^  man  wlio  roads  lovr  stories 
all  tlic  time,  a  n>sy-<hr<'kc<l  lad  with  the  Distinguished 
Service  Onler  rihhon  on  his  tunic. 

Another,  almost  as  youn^.  is  tremendously  interested  in 
refri^'eration.  He  eomes  into  my  en^'ine-nKJUi  and  stares 
in  nipt  incredulity  at  the  snow  on  the  machine.  '  I  don't 
sec  why  it  doesn't  melt  I'  he  complains,  as  if  he  had  a 
grievance.    *Howf/o  you  freeze?  if  it  isn't  a  rude  question.* 

I  exj)lain  briefly  how  we  utilize  the  latent  heat  of  re- 
evaporation  peculiar  to  certain  gaseous  media,  in  order  to 
retluce  the  tem|)erature.  He  turns  on  me  with  a  rush  of 
frankness  and  hursts  out,  'Hut.  you  know,  that's  nil 
CJreek  to  mel'  Well,  I  suppest,  his  soldiering 's  all  (Jreek 
to  me,  come  to  that.  lie  laughs  shortly,  with  his  eyes  on 
the  ever-moving  engines,  and  says  he  supposes  so.  Hy 
and  by  he  begins  to  talk  of  his  experiences  in  Macedonia. 
He  thinks  the  sea  is  beautiful,  after  the  bare  hot  gulches 
and  ravines.  He  is  so  fair  that  the  sun  has  burne<l  his  face 
and  knees  pink  instead  of  brown.  I  asked  him  what  he  was 
doing  Ix'fore  the  war,  and  he  said  his  father  had  a  see<i- 
farm  in  Ivssex  and  he  himself  was  learning  the  business. 

Meanwhile  we  have  arrived  at  Port  Said.  The  engines 
stop  and  go  astern  violently,  and  the  pilot  comes  along- 
side in  a  boat  and  climbs  the  rope-ladder.  Just  ahead  is 
the  breakwater,  with  a  couple  of  motor  patrols  keeping 
guard  over  the  fairway.  Our  escort  puts  on  speed  and 
goes  in,  for  her  j«>b  with  us  is  done.  She  has  gone  in  to 
coal,  and  she  will  be  ready  in  u  few  hours  to  take  another 
transjH)rt  out.  She  and  her  sisters  arc  like  us  —  they  arc 
never  through.  The  bip  ships  may  lie  for  <lays,  or  even 
weeks,  iti  harl>or.  We  small  fry  have  to  hurry.  Hack  and 
forth  we  ply  without  ceasing.  Sometimes  we  run  ashore 
in   our   haste,   and  so   make  less  s|>ecd.     Sometimes  wc 


A  PORT  SAID  MISCELLANY  5 

smash  into  each  other  in  the  dark,  and  have  to  stagger 
back  to  port  and  refit  with  all  possible  expedition.  Some- 
times, too,  we  go  out  and  never  come  back,  and  nobody 
save  the  authorities  and  our  relatives  hears  anything  about 
it.  To  what  end?  Well  —  and  herein  lies  my  interest  in 
those  soldiers  of  the  King  on  the  after-deck  —  the  one 
ultimate  object  we  have  in  view  is  to  get  Master  Angus 
MacFadden  and  his  chums  into  that  front-line  trench,  to 
keep  them  there,  warm  and  fed,  and  fully  supplied  with 
every  possible  assistance  when  they  climb  over  the  para- 
pet to  make  the  aforesaid  rush.  Everything  else,  when 
you  come  to  think  of  it,  is  subordinate  to  that. 

The  ship  goes  at  half-speed  now  past  the  breakwater,  a 
long  gray  finger  pointing  northwards  from  the  beach. 
Half-way  along  we  pass  the  De  Lesseps  statue  on  its 
high  pedestal,  the  right  hand  flung  out  in  a  grandiose 
gesture  toward  the  supreme  achievement  of  his  life.  The 
warm  wind  from  the  westward  is  sending  up  the  sea  to 
break  in  dazzling  white  foam  on  the  yellow  sand  below 
the  pink  and  blue  and  brown  bathing-huts.  The  break- 
water is  crowded  with  citizens  taking  the  air,  for  the 
walks  of  Port  Said  are  restricted  and  flavored  with  the 
odors  of  Arabian  domesticity.  We  pass  on,  and  the  hotels 
and  custom-house  buildings  come  into  view.  All  around 
are  the  transients  of  the  ocean,  anchored  and  for  a  moment 
at  rest.  Past  the  Canal  building  we  steam,  a  pretentious 
stucco  afi'air  with  three  green-tiled  domes  and  deep  IJyzan- 
tine  galleries.  Past  also  Navy  House,  a  comely  white 
building  in  the  Venetian  style,  recalling  the  Doge's  Palace 
—  an  illusion  heightened  by  the  fleet  of  patrols  anchored 
in  front,  busily  getting  ready  to  go  out  to  work. 

And  then  we  stop,  and  manoeuvre,  and  go  astern;  tugs 
whistle  imperiously,  motor-boats  buzz  around  us,  ropes 
are  hurriedly  ferried  across  to  buoys  and  quays,  and  we 


•  \    ?'(>UT  SAID    MISCKM.ANY 

MH'  inmle  fast  an<|  piiIUmI  into  mir  Im-HIi  iilun^'sidr  (.fun 
imiiu-nso  vc*ssr|  wliicli  luts  (X)inc  fn»ni  tlio  <»llM'r  .side  of  the 
Wiirlil  with  fn»7rn  iiirat  to  Uh^\  Maxtor  AnjnJH  ami  liis 
chums.  lint  hy  this  time  it  is  (lark.  ThtMK-hrron.s  shwn  on 
thohky  Iwhiiul  Tort  Said  is  darkening  to  pur])lcnn<l  vioh't, 
the  stars  arc  shining  iM«afcfiilly  over  us,  and  the  .sergeant 
eonios  to  ask  U<r  a  lanlrrn  Itv  which  to  finish  packing  }iis 
kit. 

It  hjLs  hocn  warm  during  thc<lay.  I»nl  now  it  is  stifling. 
We  are.  as  I  said.  ch».sc  alongside  a  great  ship.  She  ex- 
tends heyond  us  and  towers  alM)ve  u.s,  and  even  the  warm 
humid  hn^v.e  of  IN.rt  Said  in  Atigtj.st  is  shut  out  from  us. 
rp  fn»m  l>elow  comes  a  suffocating  stench  of  hot  hilge. 
The  ship  is  invaded  hy  a  swarm  f)f  Aral>  cargo-men,  who 
l>egin  immediately  to  load  us  from  our  neighl>f>r.  Cargo 
lights,  of  a  ghastly  l.liie  color,  appear  at  the  hatchways. 
.\ngus  and  his  chums  take  up  their  kits  and  fall  in  on  the 
l»ridge-<leck.  OHiccrs  hurry  to  and  fro.  Hatches  are  taken 
off,  and  the  cold  air  of  the  holds  comes  up  in  thin  wisps  of 
fog  into  the  tropic  night.  Winches  rattle.  Harsh  words  of 
French  and  .\rahic  conuningle  with  the  more  intelligihle 
shouts  of  the  shijj's  officers.  .Ml  night  this  goes  on.  All 
night  pr<K'ee<ls  this  j)reiM>ster<»us  tniffic  in  fn)7.en  corjvscs, 
amid  the  dim  blue  radiance  of  the  cargo-<lusters.  Ilun- 
dn'<ls  ui)on  hundreds  of  frozen  corpses! 

I  go  off  watch  at  eight  and,  seated  in  a  room  like  a 
Turkish  hath,  I  try  to  concentrate  on  the  letters  which 
have  come  over  the  .sea.  I  am  .seized  with  a  pn)found  de- 
pression, arising,  I  supjMvse,  from  the  hizjirre  <li.ser<"pancy 
l>etwcen  the  hummIs  comnuinicated  l>y  the  letters  and  my 
own  weariness.  .Most  letters  are  .so  oj)timistic  in  tone. 
They  clap  one  on  the  hack  and  give  one  hreezy  news  of 
the  flowers  in  .New  .lerst'y  gardens,  of  the  heut  in  New 
Orleaiuj,  of  lM)mlis  in    I>)ndon   and   reunions  in    Knglish 


A  PORT  SAID   MISCELLANY  7 

houses.  All  very  nice;  but  I  have  to  get  up  at  two,  and 
the  thermometer  over  my  bunk  is  now  registering  a  hun- 
dred Fahrenheit.  An  electric  fan  buzzes  and  snaps  in  the 
corner  and  seems  only  to  make  the  air  hotter.  An  Arab 
passes  in  the  alle\'way  outside  and  calls  to  some  one 
named  Achmet  in  an  unmelodious  howl.  (All  male  Arabs 
are  named  Achmet  apparently.) 

I  sit  in  my  pajamas,  with  the  letters  in  my  hand,  and 
wonder  how  long  it  is  going  to  last.  Another  week  or  so 
and  we  shall  have  had  two  years  of  it.  Most  of  us  have 
gone  home  on  leave.  Counting  the  commander,  there  are 
—  let  me  see  —  four  of  us  left  of  the  original  crowd.  It  is 
over  a  year  since  I  applied  for  leave.  Nothing  vrill  come  of 
it.  I  look  into  the  future  and  see  myself,  a  gray  elderly 
failure,  still  keeping  a  six-hour  shift  on  a  Mediterranean 
transport,  my  life  spent,  my  friends  and  relatives  all  dead, 
Angus  and  his  chums  gone  west,  and  a  new  generation 
coming  out,  with  vigorous  appetites  for  fresh  provisions. 

And  then  the  door  opens  and  lets  in  a  slight  uniformed 
figure  with  a  grip  in  his  hand  and  a  familiar  smile  on  his 
face.  Lets  in  also  hberty,  freedom,  pay-day,  England, 
Home  and  Beauty. 

It  is  my  relief,  arrived  at  last ! 

II 

We  greet  each  other  shyly,  for  the  chief  and  some  of  the 
others  are  standing  in  the  alleyway,  with  broad  grins  on 
their  faces  at  my  look  of  flabbergasted  bewilderment.  An 
Arab  porter  comes  along  with  a  big  canvas  bag  of  dunnage, 
which  he  dumps  at  our  feet. 

'Why  —  what  —  how —  when  —  did  you  get  here?' 
I  ask  weakly. 

'Train  from  Alexandria,'  he  replies,  sitting  down  on  the 
settee. 


8  A   rOHT  SAII>    MISCKLKANY 

My  kitf<n).  a  saixly  littlr  sava^-r  known  h.s  O'llmn-. 
jtimps  tip  an. I  Iw'pns  t«>  make  friends.  OUcnry  is  stn)kr«l 
and  tiiklo*!,  and  Tommy  lcK)k.s  np  nt  mc  willi  his  old 
Itilernnf.  l»land.  imprrf nrl)al»Ic  sjnilr. 

'V<)U.<tf  all  p<t>plr:'  I  remark.  l«M»kinijal  liim  inanelv. 

"Aye.  they  sent  me  out.*  he  aMirms.  'They  tohl  me  you 
were  liere.    How's  thinj^s?* 

The  others  ^'o  away,  still  smiling.  an<l  I  shut  the  d(K)r. 
For  this  younj;  <h;ip,  who  h;is  (dnie  across  KiiroiK*  to  re- 
lieve me,  is  an  oM  shipmate.  W<'\\<reoii  the  Mero\  injxian. 
We  have  l)een  many  voyages  to  Rio  and  the  I'lates.  We 
were  always  ehtims.  In  .some  obscure  fashion,  we  pot  on. 
Tommy  i.s  North  Country  <lr>-,  tacituni.  reticent.  .sh)w 
t«»  make  friends.  A  hot-air  merchant  makes  him  restive 
and  he  goes  away.  He  al»h(trs  hlufTers.  I  like  him.  We 
have  never  written,  thouj,'h,  for  it  is  a  fact  that  .some  friend- 
shij>s  do  not  'carr>'  in  a  Idler.  They  are  like  .some  wines 
-  they  do  not  tnivel.  Tor  all  I  knew.  I  was  never  to  .see 
him  a^^iin.  What  of  that?  We  had  Immmi  chums  and  we 
underst(M>d  each  other.  I  had  often  thought  of  him  since 
I  M  l>een  <»ut  here  —  a  g<M>d  little  shipmate.  .\nd  now  here 
he  was.  on  my  .settee,  smiling  and  tickling'  O'llcnrj'  just 
w  here  he  likes  to  l>c  tickle<l,  and  asking  me  to  eonic  mshorc 
AS  ith  him. 

Will  I  come  ashore  with  him?  Will  I  not?  1  <lraj;  o[>on 
<lniw<Ts.  flinj;  (»ut  a  white-drill  suit,  and  Im-^mu  to  dress.  I 
ojH-n  the  do«(r  and  shout  to  the  messnian  to  ^'o  .-md  ^v\  :i 
iMiat  and  hrinj;  my  sIhk's  and  .s«tme  hot  water.  While  I 
.shave.  Tommy  relates  his  adventures  in  u  sket<hv  way 
1 1<  has  no  fjift  of  t«»n^,nies.  Imt  now  and  apiin  he  strikes  out 
a  jjhranr  that  hrin^fs  the  picture  In-fore  me.  He  ha.s  Infu 
torjM'diHNl  II.-  wa.s  in  the  Mallhiisian  when  she  was 
'plu^'^'cd.'  He  wjLs  on  watch,  of  (tuirse.  Thirds  always 
are  on  \vatch  when  anything  hap|K'ns.    1  u.sed  to  tell  him 


A  PORT  SAID  IVnSCELLANY  9 

that  he  was  the  original  of  Browning's  'Shadowy  Third,' 
he  is  so  small,  with  delicate  hands  and  that  charming, 
elusive,  shado^vy  smile. 

Oh,  I  remark,  as  I  reach  for  the  talcum  powder,  he  was 
torpedoed,  was  he?  He  nods  and  smiles  at  O'Henry's 
trick  of  falling  off  the  settee  head  over  heels.  And  the  poor 
old  Malthusian  too, —  what  a  box  of  tricks  she  was,  with 
her  prehistoric  pumps  and  effervescent  old  dynamo, — 
gone  at  last,  eh?  Tommy  says  nothing  about  the  catastro- 
phe save  that  he  lost  his  gear.  Then,  he  observes,  he  joined 
the  Polynesian  as  Third,  having,  of  course,  got  himself 
fresh  gear.  Ah,  and  had  I  heard  about  the  Polynesian? 
She's  gone  too,  he  said,  letting  O'Henry  down  to  the  floor 
by  his  tail.  What?  Torpedoed  too?  It  must  be  a  sort  of 
habit  with  him.  Good  Heavens !  But  no,  says  Tommy,  she 
was  attacked,  but  she  got  away,  and  — 

*It  was  a  funny  thing,'  he  adds  meditatively;  and  looks 
at  me  as  though  he  could  n't  make  it  out. 

'What,'  I  ask,  'what  happened?'  as  I  look  around  for 
my  stick  and  cigar-case. 

'Oh,  I'll  tell  you  when  we  get  ashore,'  he  says;  and  he 
rolls  O'llenry  into  a  ball  and  drops  him  on  my  bunk. 

'Come  on,  then.  —  Sam!  Got  that  boat? ' 

A  negro  voice  howls, '  Yes,  sah,'  and  we  go  out  and  down 
the  ladder. 

A  three-quarter  moon  is  coming  up,  hangs  now  over 
Palestine,  and  Port  Said,  the  ancient  Pelusium,  takes  on  a 
serene  splendor  inconceivable  to  those  who  have  seen  her 
only  in  the  hard  dusty  glare  of  noon-day.  The  harsh  out- 
lines of  the  ships  soften  to  vague  shadows  touched  with 
silver;  the  profound  gloom  within  the  colonnades  of  the 
Canal  building,  the  sheen  of  the  moonlight  on  green  domes 
and  gray  stucco  walls  make  of  it  a  fairy  palace  of  mist 
and  emerald.     Each  motor-launch  speeding  past  leaves  a 


10  A    roiM    >.\]\)    MISCKIJ.ANY 

!>n»a<lcninp.  licnvin^c  fumiw  «.f  jdiosplion'stTucr.  Kn<h  dip 
f»f  our  CMirs  !»rrak.s  tlic  dark  water  into  un  iucrtNlihlc  swirl 
of  Ixiilinjj  jrnTnish-wliite  ra«lianco. 

Toinniy  nml  I  sit  sitle  l»y  side  in  tlic  stem  in  silence  as 
the  Arab  lH)at  man.  in  hhio  ^'own  nn<l  round  wliitc  cap,  pulls 
IIS  up  to  the  Custonl-Hcuisc  qtiay.  Wo  ])nsH  out  at  a  si<le 
pate  and  find  ourselves  in  K^Vfjtian  darkness.  Wliefher 
this  is  due  to  niihtary  exi^'eiuies  or  to  a  sliorla^'o  of  fuel. 
nolnnly  seems  to  know.  Tlie  hotel  huildinjjs  alon^'  the 
front  throw  their  shadows  ri^'ht  arro.ss  the  Sharia  el  I/e^'era. 
down  w  Inch  we  pas.s  until  we  reach  the  hroad  dusty  Rue  el 
Nil,  n  l>o>ilevanl  nmnin^  strai^dit  down  to  the  sea.  We  are 
hound  for  the  Kastern  Kxchan^'e  Hotel,  familiarly  known 
as  'The  Eastern.'  It  is  the^rand  nil1yinf,'-i)ointof  mariners 
ea.st  and  west  of  Suez.  It  is  a  hu^'c  paunt  structure  of  pla.ss 
and  iron,  !)uilt  over  to  the  curb  of  the  strei^t  and  the  ar- 
cade under  it  is  full  of  pre<Mi  chairs  and  tables.  pre<«n 
shnibs  in  enormous  tubs,  and  dimbitip  plants  twined  alM.ut 
the  iron  stanchions.  The  lights  are  shrotide<i  in  preen 
I>etrolcuni  cans,  and  one  has  the  illusion  of  sittinp  in  the 
plade  of  .s«une  artificial  forest.  Hotel  waiters,  in  lonp  white 
n>l>es  cut  across  with  brilliant  .scarlet  .s;ishes,  and  sunnount- 
e«l  !»y  scarlet  fezes,  move  noiselessly  to  atul  fro  with  trays 
«if  tirinks.  .\n  or<  hcstra,  .siunewhere  lK\vond,  plays  a  jjlain- 
live  air. 

.'Ml  an)und  are  uniforms  naval  ami  military.  British, 
French.  Italian,  and  so  f<.rth.  It  is  here,  I  .say,  that  Kjust 
and  West  <lo  meet.  Here  the  skipjx-r  from  Nagasaki  finds 
an  ohl  shipmate  just  in  fn)m  New  Orleans.  Here  a  chief 
enpine<T,  burned  brown  and  worn  thin  by  a  summer  at 
Basni,  drinks  with  a  friend  IxHuid  Ka^t  fnmi  (Ilaspow  to 
HanptHtn.  Hen*  the  possip  of  all  the  iM)rts  of  the  Seven 
St'its  chanpes  hatids  over  the  little  tables  imder  the  dim 
grcen-hha<le<|  lights.    Outside.   Iwyctud   the  screen  of  ver- 


A  PORT  SAID  MISCELLANY  11 

dure,  a  carriage  will  go  by  stealthily  in  the  dust,  a  cigar 
glowing  under  the  hood.  Itinerant  salesmen  of  peanuts  in 
glass  boxes,  beads,  Turkish  delight,  postals,  cigarettes, 
news-sheets,  postage-stamps,  and  all  the  other  passenger 
junk,  pass  to  and  fro.  A  native  conjurer  halts  as  we  sit 
dowTi,  sadly  produces  a  dozen  lizards  from  an  apparently 
empty  fez,  and  passes  on  as  I  look  coldly  upon  his  peripa- 
tetic legerdemain.  Here  and  there  parties  of  residents  sit 
round  a  table  —  a  French  family,  perhaps,  or  Italian,  or 
Maltese,  or  Greek,  or  Hebrew,  or  Syrian  ■ —  for  they  are 
all  to  be  found  here  in  Pelusium,  the  latter  making  money 
out  of  their  conquerors,  just  as,  I  dare  say,  they  did  in 
Roman  times.  Papa  is  smoking  a  cigarette;  Mamma  is  sit- 
ting back  surveying  the  other  denizens  of  the  artificial 
forest  through  her  lorgnon ;  the  young  ladies  converse  with 
a  couple  of  youthful '  subs '  in  khaki,  and  a  bare-legged  boy, 
in  an  enormous  pith  hat  like  an  inverted  bath,  is  haggling 
over  half  a  piastre  with  a  vender  of  peanuts.  Tommy  and 
I  sit  in  the  shadow  of  a  shrub  and  I  order  gin  and  Hme- 
juice.  He  wants  beer,  but  there  is  no  beer  —  only  some 
detestable  carbonated  bilge-water  at  half  a  dollar  (ten 
piastres)  the  bottle. 

And  soldiers  go  by  continually  to  and  from  the  cafes  and 
canteens.  Many  are  Colonials,  and  their  wide-brimmed 
hats  decorated  with  feathers  give  them  an  extraordinarily 
dissipated  air.  There  is  something  very  im-English  about 
these  enormous,  loose-limbed,  rolling  fighting-men,  with 
their  cheeks  the  color  of  raw  beef  and  their  truculent  eyes 
under  their  wide  hats.  They  remind  me  at  times  of  the 
professional  soldiers  of  my  school-days,  who  dressed  in 
scarlet  and  gold  and  were  a  race  apart.  As  they  pass  us,  in 
twos  and  threes  and  singly,  slouching  and  jingling  their 
spurs,  and  roll  off  into  darkness  again,  I  think  of  Master 
Angus  MacFaddcn  and  his  chums,  and  I  wonder  Avliat  the 


I«  \    I'oKT  SAID    \I|M  K1J.ANY 

fnf  urr  holds  for  us  all.   Tlu-n  I  lu-ar  Tommy  talking  and  I 
l>cpn  to  listrn. 

No  nso  trying  to  tril  the  .st«.ry  a,s  lu>  toM  if.  Whorvor 
thinks  ho  can.  is  the  victim  of  an  ilhision.  Tommy's  style. 
Hko  his  fMTson.iIily.  is  not  Htrniry.  I  often  womlrr.  whon  I 
think  «if  th«' sort  of  lifr  h«'  h.is  h-d.  h<i\v  he  comes  to  cxpmvs 
himself  at  all.  F(»r  he  offc«n  startles  mc-  with  some*  cpjt'cr 
Bcmi-articiilatc  flash  of  intuition.  Adirect  challcnigeto  Life! 
As  when  he  .sxiid.  hnjking  up  at  me  as  we  leaned  over  the 
hulwark.s  and  watched  the  sun  rise  one  nutrning  in  the 
C'urihlK'an.  'Vo*  know.  I  have  n't  had  nuy  life.' 

^^  ell,  as  I  .sjjid.  he  and  I  an*  chum.s  on  .some  mysteriou.sly 
tacit  urn.  North  Country  princii)le  that  won't  In-ar  talking 
al>out!  And  I  must  tell  the  story  in  my  own  way.  merely 
cjuoling  u  i)hnise  now  and  then.  I  (.we  him  that  much  Ik*- 
cause.  y(»u  .see.  he  w.-is  tliere. 

Ill 

That  voyage  he  made  in  the  Polynesian  was  lur  usual 
Ix)ncion  to  S)uth  American  ports.  And  nothing  hapiMMie.j 
imtil  they  were  homeward  lM)und  and  making  I'shanf.  It 
wa.s  a  gloriou.s  day,  a.s  clear  a.s  it  ever  is  in  northern  waters, 
and  the  Third  Mate  was  astonished  to  .see  through  his 
gl.isses  what  he  t<M»k  tc»  l)e  land.  Ishant  aln-ady!  A.s  he 
IcKtked.  he  .siiw  a  flash  and  his  wonder  deci>ened.  He  told 
himself,  well,  he'd  Ik'  Mowed!  A  tremendous  l)ang  a  lnm- 
dn'dy.'irdsalMvim  of  the*  Polynesian  nearly  sh(K»k  him  over- 
l>oanl.    It  has  come  at  last,  then  I 

The  Old  Man  came*  from  his  room,  running  si«leways.  his 
face  .set  in  u  kind  ctf  spjism.  and  sIckkI  l»y  the  mil.  clutching 
it  as  if  i>etrilie«l.  The  Third  Mate,  a  friend  of  Tonimy's. 
I>oinled  and  handc-d  the  l)in(Kular  just  in  time  for  tin*  Old 
Man  to  .see  anutiier  flash.   The  morning  telegraph  clanged 


A  PORT  SAID  AUSCELLANY  13 

and  jangled.  The  Third  Mate  ran  to  the  telephone  and 
was  listening,  when  the  second  shell,  close  to  the  bows, 
exploded  on  the  water  and  made  him  drop  the  receiver. 
Then  he  heard  the  Old  Man  order  the  helm  over  —  over  — 
over,  whirling  his  arm  to  emphasize  the  vital  need  of  put- 
ting it  hard  over.  A  few  moments  of  tense  silence,  and 
then,  with  a  roar  that  nearly  split  all  their  ear-dnims,  the 
Polynesian's  six-inch  anti-raider  gun  loosed  off  at  nine 
thousand  yards. 

So  you  must  envisage  this  obscure  naval  engagement  on 
that  brilliant  summer  day  in  the  green  Atlantic.  Not  a  rip- 
ple to  spoil  the  aim,  not  a  cloud  in  the  sky,  as  the  two  gun- 
ners, their  sleeves  rolled  to  the  shoulders,  their  bodies 
heaving,  thrust  a  fresh  shell  and  cartridge  into  the  breech, 
shoved  in  the  cap,  and  swimg  the  block  into  place  with  the 
soft  'cluck'  of  steel  smeared  with  vaseline.  As  the  ship 
veers,  the  gun  is  trained  steady  on  the  gray  dot.  Nine 
thousand  and  fifty,  no  deflection  —  'Stand  away i'  There 
is  another  roar,  and  the  gunner,  who  has  stood  away,  now 
stands  with  his  feet  apart,  his  elbows  out,  staring  with 
intense  concentration  through  his  glasses. 

Down  below,  the  engine-room  staff,  which  included 
Tommy  doing  a  field-day  on  the  spare  generator,  were 
clustered  on  the  starting  platform.  The  expansion  links  had 
been  opened  out  full,  —  any  locomotive  driver  will  show 
you  what  I  mean, —  and  the  Polynesian's  engines,  four 
thousand  seven  hundred  horse-power  indicated,  driven  by 
steam  at  two  hundred  pounds  to  the  square  inch  from  her 
four  Scotch  boilers,  were  turning  eighty-nine  revolutions 
per  minute  and  making  very  good  going  for  her,  but  noth- 
ing to  write  home  about,  when  a  modern  submersible 
cruiser  doing  sixteen  knots  on  the  surface  was  pelting  after 
her.  The  tremendous  exj)losions  of  the  six-inch  gun  dis- 
couraged conversation. 


14  \    I'OHT  SAID    MIH  1:LI^\NY 

The  ("hirf  KnpiuHT.  a  tall  nmn  with  a  full  chcstimt 
monsta<*lir  aini  a  stcni  rontrinptiKtiis  rxpn's-sion  Ixirii  «if 
his  liatrcd  nf  >ra-lifi'.  was  stri<liii^  up  an<|  ilowu  XUc  plates. 
The  StHi»ii(l  ap|H'an"(l,  like  Ariel,  anniiKJ.  alntve,  Ik'Iow, 
intent  on  sundn*  fid^'ets  of  his  own,  ami  whistlinjj  —  no- 
IkmIv  knew  why.  The  Fourth  wa.s  in  the  .stokehold  and 
hark  in  the  enj^ine-room  every  ten  niinute.s.  The  Fifth,  a.s 
though  he  had  l>een  naughty  an<l  \va,s  In-ing  punishe<l  hy 
that  stem  man  with  the  four  gold-and-i)ur])le  wings  on  his 
sleeve,  was  sfan<iiiig  with  his  face  to  the  wall,  hig  rul)l»er 
navy-i)h<)ne  receivers  on  his  ears  and  his  eyes  fixed  in  a 
nij)t  .saintly  way  on  two  ground-gla.ss  di.scs  alnive  him,  one 
of  which  was  aglow  an<i  hore  the  legend  More  licvidulion^f. 
The  other,  Jyr.s.s  Rcn}lutinn,<i,  was  didl  and  out  of  use.  So  he 
stocHJ,  waiting  for  verbal  orders. 

All  the  revolutions  possible  were  l>eing  supplie<I,  for  the 
.«yifetv-valves  were  lifting  with  an  (Kcasional  throatv  flut- 
ter.  l'rie\i)eftedly  the  Se<'ond  would  ajiin^ir  from  the 
tunnel,  where  he  had  l)e<'n  ftn-ling  the  stern  gland,  and 
wfnild  hi>ver  lovingly  <»ver  the  thrust-l)l(M-k,  whistling, 
amid  the  clangor  of  four  thousiind  .seven  hundred  horse- 
jKJwer,  'Ix)vc  me,  and  the  w«»rld  is  mine.' 

Stiddenly  all  wa.s  swallowed  up,  engulfed,  in  one  heart- 
shattering  exj)losion  on  deek.  It  wius  .so  tremendous  that 
the  Fifth's  head  involuntarily  darted  out  fr<»m  the  rtn-eivers 
and  he  hntked  sharply  at  the  Chief,  who  was  standing 
sttK-k-still  with  his  hmg  legs  apart,  his  hands  in  Iiis  coat 
jKK-kets,  staring  «)ver  his  shoulder  with  stern  intentnes,s 
into  vaeaiiey.  The  telephone  hell  liraved  out  a  call  and 
the  Fifth  fitted  his  head  onee  again  t«>  the  re<-eiver.  *  Yes, 
sir!*  he  .sjing  <»ut;  and  then,  to  the  others,  'We'rtr  gainin' 
on  lierl  \V«''r<'  gainin*  on  her  I*  Tonuny  goes  on  methodi- 
ciiWy  with  his  dynamo.  lie  is  close  at  hand  when  wantetl, 
ready,  n'sourceful,  dev«»id  of  j»anie.   The  excitement  is  on 


A  PORT  SAID  MISCELLANY  15 

deck,  where  the  shell  has  struck  the  house  amidships, 
blowing  the  galley  ranges  and  bakehouse  ovens  overboard, 
killed  three  men  outright,  and  left  two  more  mere  moving 
horrors  on  the  slaughter-house  floor.  Another,  a  scullion, 
with  his  hand  cut  off  at  the  wrist,  is  running  round  and 
round,  falling  over  the  wreckage,  and  pursued  by  a  couple 
of  stewards  with  bandages  and  friar's  balsam. 

And  on  that  gray  dot,  now  nine  thousand  five  hundred 
yards  astern,  there  is  excitement  too,  no  doubt,  for  it 
seems  authentic  that  the  Polynesian's  third  shot  hit  the 
forward  gun-mounting,  and  the  list  caused  by  this,  heavy 
things  slewing  over,  the  damage  to  the  deck,  the  rupture  of 
certain  vital  oil-pipes,  and  the  wounds  of  the  crew,  would 
account  for  the  Polynesian,  with  her  fourteen-point-seven 
knots,  gaining  on  U  999,  supposed  to  have  sixteen  knots 
on  the  surface. 

On  the  bridge  of  the  Polynesian,  too,  there  is  excitement 
of  sorts.  The  Chief  Mate,  who  has  been  nishing  about, 
helping  the  ammimition  carriers,  then  assisting  the  stew- 
ards with  their  rough  surgery,  then  up  on  the  bridge  again, 
has  come  up  and  is  prancing  up  and  down,  every  now  and 
then  looking  hard  at  the  Old  Man,  who  stares  through  the 
telescope  at  the  gray  dot. 

Something  awful  had  happened.  When  that  shell  hit 
the  ship,  the  Old  Man  had  called  out  hoarsely,  'That's 
enough  —  oh,  enough — -boats!'  and  the  Chief  INLate,  to 
the  horror  of  the  young  Third  Mate,  who  told  Tonnny 
about  it,  grabbed  the  Old  Man  round  the  waist,  whirled 
him  into  the  chart-room,  and  slannned  the  door  upon  them 
both.  The  Third  jSIate  says  lie  saw,  through  the  window, 
the  Chief  Mate's  fist  half-an-inch  from  the  Old  Man's 
nose,  the  Old  Man  looking  at  it  in  gloomy  silence,  and  the 
Chief  Mate's  eyes  nearly  jumping  out  of  his  head  as  he 
argued  and  threatened  and  implored.    '.  .  .  Gainin'  on 


If.  A    I*()IIT  SAID    .MIS(  r.I.L\NY 

her,*  was  nil  tlir  Third  Mate  c<»ul<i  hmr,  and  '.  .  .  For 
(Mxl'ssakr.  sir!"  and.siicli-likoslnni^;  phni-scs.  S)  tlu'Tliinl 
Mate  says.  And  then  thoy  c-amc  (njt  af^aiii.  and  the  Male 
telephoned  t<»  the  cnginc-rooui. 

IV 

The  eonipany  is  dwindling  now.  for.  ns  Tommy  pnlps  his 
<lrink  and  orders  two  more,  it  is  on  tlie  stn)ke  of  nine, 
when  the  bars  close,  and  folks  an*  melting  pnmp  }»y  pr<mp 
into  the  darkness.  S<mie  are  In.und  for  home,  some  for 
'KJdonido.'  a  dusty  ham  where  one  watches  dn'a<iftd  melo- 
dniinatir  films  and  faints  with  the  heat.  The  lights  are 
turned  still  lower.  The  few  shops  which  have  Ikmmi  oiK-n  in 
a  stealthy  way  now  shut  nj)  close.  The  n))M)nli;jlit  throws 
sharp  l>lue-ltlack  shadows  on  the  white  dust  of  the  Hue  el 
Nil.  The  orchestra  fades  away;  chairs  are  stacked  l>etween 
the  tuhs.  and  reproachful  glances  are  cast  uiHin  the  dozen 
or  so  of  us  who  still  linj^'cr  in  the^l(M)m. 

I  become  aware  that  Tonuny.  in  his  own  cnld  lit  fie 
.semi-articulate  fjLshion,  is  n^^ardin^  me  as  thou^'h  he 
had  some  extniordinar>'  anxiety  on  his  mind.  'I'hat  is  the 
way  his  expn*ssion  strikes  me.  As  though  he  had  had  some 
tnMucndous  cxjMTii'nce  and  did  n't  know  what  to  make  of 
it.  I  rememlKT  seeinj.;  something  like  it  in  the  hict*  of  a 
youth,  reli^'iously  brought  up,  who  was  listening  for  the 
first  time  to  an  atheist  attemptinj^  to  shake  the  foundations 
of  his  faith.  Atid  while  I  ruminate  ufMin  this  umisual  i>or- 
tent  in  Tommy's  pliysio^'uomy,  he  phmj^es  int«)  the  second 
part  «tf  his  stor^'.  It  has  its  own  ap[H>al  to  those  who  htvc 
arul  utHJerstand  the  .sea. 

For  the  rest  <»f  the  day  the  Polynesian's  cotirse  was  a 
scries  of  intricate  convolutions  on  the  face  of  the  Atlantic. 
.\s  the  Third  .Male  ptit  it  in  his  livt-ly  way,  you  couM  have 
played  it  on  u  piano.   Owitig  to  the  wireless  n>om  iuiving 


A  PORT  SMD  IVnSCELLANY  17 

been  partially  demolished,  they  were  out  of  touch  with 
the  world,  and  the  commander  felt  lonely.  He  even  re- 
gretted for  a  while  that  he  had  not  retired.  Was  just  going 
to,  when  the  War  came.  He  was  sixty  years  old,  and  had 
been  an  easygoing  skipper  for  twenty  years  now.  This,  — ■ 
and  he  wiped  his  moist  face  with  his  handkerchief,  — 
this  was  n't  at  all  what  he  had  bargained  for  when  he  had 
volunteered  to  carry  on  'for  the  duration  of  the  War.' 
Men  dead  and  dying  and  mutilated,  ship  torn  asunder  — 
He  sat  on  his  settee  and  stared  hard  at  the  head  and  shoul- 
ders of  the  man  at  the  wheel,  adumbrated  on  the  ground- 
glass  window  in  front  of  him.  He  had  turned  sick  at  the 
sight  down  there  — 

But  the  Polynesian  was  still  going.  Not  a  bolt,  rivet, 
plate,  or  rod  of  her  steering  and  propelling  mechanism 
had  been  touched,  and  she  was  galloping  northwest  by 
west  at  thirteen  knots.  The  commander  hoped  for  a  dark 
night,  for  in  his  present  perturbed  state  the  idea  of  being 
toq)edoed  at  night  was  positively  horrible.  The  Brob- 
dingnagian,  now,  was  hit  at  midnight  and  sunk  in  three 
minutes  with  all  hands  but  two.  He  wiped  his  face  again. 
He  felt  that  he  was  n't  equal  to  it. 

It  was  dark.  All  night  it  was  dark  and  moonless.  All 
night  they  galloped  along  up-Channel.  All  night  the  Old 
Man  walked  the  bridge,  watching  the  blackness  ahead.  At 
four  o'clock  the  Mate  came  on  watch  and  the  Old  ISEan 
felt  that  he  must  lie  down.  He  was  over  sixty  years  old, 
remember,  and  he  had  been  on  his  feet  for  eighteen  hours. 
The  Chief  Mate,  who  had  been  strangely  shy  since  his  out- 
rageous behavior,  merely  remarked  that  it  looked  as  if  it 
might  be  thick  presently,  and  began  to  pace  to  and  fro. 

What  hafjpcned,  —  if  anything  did  happen,  —  nobody 
seemed  to  know;  but  Tommy,  who  came  off  at  four,  and 
was  enjoying  a  pipe,  a  cup  of  cocoa,  and  a  game  of  i)alicnce 


18  \    I'OUT  SAID   MISCKI.LANY 

ill  Ills  rtKun,  was  MKldmly  ihiu^  nulwayH  afpiinst  liis  \var<l- 
n>lx\  and  a  srrirs  of  ^riiidiii^^  cnLslirs.  jnic  of  which  sriit  hi.s 
jH)rtlinh*  ^\uss  in  a  hur>l  <»f  fni^'njcnt.s  c»vrr  his  lM'd-pla<t', 
burklrd  the  plates  «>f  the  ship's  siih*.  lie  rt* nn'nilH'rr«l  that 
the  wardn))>o  dttor  flrw  <)j>en  as  he  sj)rang  up,  and  hii»  derliy 
hat  lH)un("cd  l«>  the  fl(K)r. 

He  at  once  skipp<'«l  down  Ik-Iow,  wlicrc  ho  found  the 
Se<H^)nd  and  Chief  trying  to  earn*'  out  a  nunil>er  of  rapid 
contra<lictor\'  orders  from  the  teh'graph.  And  lus  he 
joined  tlieni  tlie  teh*praph  whirled  fn»nj  Full  astern  to 
Statid  hi/,  and  stoi)pe<l.  'i'hey  st«M»d  liv.  Toniiny  was  told 
to  po  and  finisii  'changing  over.'  which  involves  ojH'iiing 
and  shutting  several  mysterious  valves.  Having  achieved 
this,  he  took  up  his  station  l)y  the  telegraph. 

The  Cliicf,  <lad  in  a  suit  of  rumpletl  hut  elegant  i)ink- 
and-s;ifTron-slriped  i)ajanias,  pn)wled  to  and  fro  in  fn)nt 
of  the  engines  like  oneof  the  larger  carnivora  in  front  of  his 
cage.  The  Second,  with  the  sleeves  of  his  coat  rolled  up, 
as  if  he  were  a  conjuror  and  wished  to  show  there  was  no 
de<-cj)tion.  product'd  a  cigarette  from  his  ear.  a  match 
from  an  inxisihic  ledge  under  the  log-desk,  and  then 
cau.sed  himself  to  disapjM'ar  info  the  stokehold,  whistling 
a  time  at  one  time  verj'  iM)i)uIar  in  I)ul)Iin  called  'Mick 
McCiilligan's  I)aught<-r  Mary  Ann.'  He  returne<l  in  some 
mysterious  fashion,  smoking  with  much  enjoyment,  and 
n'jMjrting  greiLser,  firemen,  and  Tommies  all  gone  up  on 
de<k. 

And  .so  they  waite<l,  those  three.  an<l  waited.  an<l  waiti^l; 
ami  the  dawn  canx'  uj),  inclTahly  tcn«ler,  and  far  up  alMi\e 
tlicm  through  the  skylights  they  saw  the  stars  thn)Ugh  the 
fog  tuni  pale,  and  still  there  wjis  no  sign,  the  telegniph 
fmger  iM)inting,  in  its  nmte  jK-remptorj'  way,  at  Stand  l>y. 
Thev  were  standing  l»v. 

An<i  at  length  it  gR*w  to  Ik'  past  emlunmce.   The  (Miief 


A  rORT  SAID  MISCELLANY  19 

spoke  sharply  into  the  telephone.  Nothing.  Suddenly  lie 
turned  and  ordered  Tommy  to  go  up  and  see  what  was  do- 
ing. The  Second,  coming  in  from  the  stokehold,  reported 
water  in  the  cross-bunker,  but  the  doors  were  down.  So 
Tommy  went  up  the  long  ladders  and  out  on  deck  and  stood 
stock  still  before  the  great  experience  of  his  life.  For  they 
were  alone  on  the  ship,  those  three.  The  boats  were  gone. 
There  was  no  sound,  save  the  banging  of  the  empty  blocks 
and  the  gurgle  and  slap  of  the  sea  against  her  sides. 

For  a  moment.  Tommy  said,  he  *had  no  heart.'  The 
sheer  simplicity  of  the  tiling  unmanned  him,  as  well  it 
might.  He  had  n't  words  —  Gone!  Behind  the  horror  lay 
another  horror,  and  it  was  the  reminiscence  of  this  ulti- 
mate apprehension  that  I  saw  in  his  face  to-night.  And 
then  he  threw  himself  backward  (a  North  Country  foot- 
ball trick),  turned,  and  rushed  for  the  ladder.  The  other 
two,  down  below,  saw  him  there,  his  eyes  feverish,  his  face 
dark  and  anxious,  his  usually  low  voice  harsh  and  strident, 
as  he  prayed  them  to  drop  everything  and  come  up  quick 
—  come  on  —  and  his  voice  trailed  off  into  huskiness  and 
heavy  breathing. 

WTien  they  came  up,  which  happened  immediately,  four 
steps  at  a  time,  they  found  him  sprawled  against  the  bul- 
warks, his  chin  on  his  hands,  looking  as  though  to  fix  the 
scene  forever  on  his  brain.  And  they  looked  too,  and 
turned  faint,  for  there,  far  across  the  darkling  sparkle  of 
the  sea,  were  the  boats,  and  on  the  sky-line  a  smear  of 
smoke.  So  they  stood,  each  in  a  characteristic  attitude  — 
Tommy  asprawl  on  the  rail,  the  Second  halfway  up  the 
bridge-deck  ladder,  one  hand  on  his  hip,  the  Chief  with  his 
hands  ])eliind  him,  his  long  legs  witlely  planted,  his  head 
well  forward,  scowling.  They  were  as  Tonmiy  put  it,  *in  a 
state.'  It  was  n't,  you  know,  the  actual  danger:  it  was  the 
carrying  away  of  their  faith  in  the  world  of  living  men. 


to  \    n'KI    -\II»    MIM  Ll.LANY 

CtoTKl  Gfxll  Ami  I  iiim^'iiic  the  j)rrvniliiif»  rrnotion  in  thrir 
liciirt.s  at  tliis  iitoniciit  wa.s  in.stiiirt  in  the  lad's  fjiirrj'  to 
roe- —  '  Wl>at  wa,s  the  use  of  ^'<»in*  IkkIv,  j»r  making  n  lifjht 
nf  it,  if  that  v. is  all  thry  thought  of  us?'  An«l  thc-n  the 
Polyiu'sian  ntalKMl  thnn  from  siK'<-ulafion.s  as  to  the  ulti- 
mate pn»liity  of  the  liuman  miuI  liy  giving;  u  sudden  lunge 
fonvani.  She  was  sinking. 

For  a  uionuMif.  Toinniy  says,  they  were  'in  a  state.*  I 
.should  iinapne  they  were.  They  l>e^'an  running  n>und  and 
round  the  denk,  picking  up  i)ie<ea  of  \N«K)d  and  drojjping 
them  in  a  shamefaced  manner.  Suddenly  the  Chief  remcni- 
Ixred  the  raft-  -an  unfortunate  structure  of  oil-harrcls 
and  hatches.  It  was  on  the  foredeik,  a  frowsy  incum- 
hnnu-c  devised  by  the  Mate  in  a  l)ur>t  of  iiipcuuily  against 
the  fatal  day.  \Vlu'u  the  three  (»f  liiem  arrived  on  the  fore- 
deck  their  hopes  sank  again.  A  single  glance  showed  the 
imiM)ssil)ility  of  lifting  it  without  steam  on  the  windies. 
They  st<K)d  round  it  and  deliKerated  in  silence,  tying  on 
life-l>elt3  which  they  had  picked  up  on  the  l)ridge-<leck. 
The  Polynesian  pive  another  lunge,  and  they  climljetl  on 
the  raft  and  iield  tight. 

The  I'olyne.sian  was  in  her  death-throes.  She  had  l>eon 
cut  through  below  the  bridge,  and  the  water  was  filling 
tlic  cross-l>\uiker  and  jjn'ssirig  the  air  in  Xuniher  2  hold  up 
against  the  hatches.  While  tlu'y  sat  there  waiting,  the 
tar])aulins  on  the  hatch  l>alI<H>ned  up  and  hurst  like  a  gun- 
shot, relcjising  the  air  iuipn»vise(i  within.  She  plunged 
again,  and  the  .s<'a  iMiunvi  t»\er  her  hulwark.s  and  cjuscade<l 
uround  them.  The  nift  slid  forward  against  ii  winch,  skin- 
ning the  Se<t»nd's  h-g  again.st  a  whe<'lguard.  They  held  on. 

Now,  it  is  iM'rfiH-lly  .siuiple  in  tlieory  t(»  sit  on  a  mft  and 
allow  a  ship  to  sink  uudi-r  Vnu.  The  ship  sinks,  and  the 
raft,  retiiining  its  luioyaiic y,  ll«»als.  (^uile  simple,  in  theorj'. 
In  jjractie«*,  however,  numy  factors  tend  to  vitiate  the 


A  PORT  SAID  MISCELLANY  21 

simplicity  of  it.  Indeed,  it  becomes  so  difficult  that  only 
by  the  mercy  of  God  could  anybody  attempt  it  and  sur- 
vive. The  fore-deck  of  the  Polynesian  was  like  the  fore- 
deck  of  most  ships,  cluttered  up  with  hatch-combings, 
winches,  ventilator-cowls,  steampipes,  masts,  derricks, 
bollards,  snatch-blocks,  dead-eyes,  ladders,  and  wire- 
rope  drums.  Look  forward  from  the  promenade  next  time 
you  make  a  trip,  and  conceive  it.  As  the  Polynesian  sub- 
sided, she  wallowed.  Her  centre  of  gravity  was  changing 
every  second,  and  the  raft,  wnth  its  three  serious  passen- 
gers, was  charging  to  and  fro  as  if  it  were  alive  and  trying 
to  escape.  It  carried  away  a  ventilator,  and  then,  for  one 
horrible  instant,  was  caught  in  the  standing  rigging  and 
canted  over.  A  rush  to  starboard  released  it,  and  the  next 
moment  it  was  free.  Only  the  windlass  on  the  forecastle- 
head  was  now  above  water  forward. 

They  saw  nothing  more  of  her.  Not  that  she  vanished 
all  at  once,  but  the  sucking  whirlpools  in  which  the  raft 
was  turning  over  and  reeling  back  on  them  kept  them  fully 
occupied.  And  when  at  last  they  had  coughed  up  the  sea- 
water  and  wiped  their  eyes  and  looked  at  each  other  as 
they  floated  in  the  gentle  swell  of  a  smiling  summer  sea, 
she  was  gone.  Only  one  thing  destroyed  their  peace  and 
stood  up  before  them  like  a  spectre:  she  was  lying  at  the 
bottom,  with  her  telegraph  at  Stand  by.  The  deathless 
sporting  spirit  of  the  race  was  expressed  in  these  words: 
'You  know,  if  it  had  n't  been  for  tliaf,  it  was  a  joke,  man!' 

The  moon  rides  high  over  Pelusium  as  we  go  back  to 
the  ship.  Tommy  and  1  will  keep  the  morning  watch  to- 
gether for  once  and  talk  over  old  times.  Tomorrow  I  shall 
go  through  the  hot  white  dust  of  the  Rue  el  Nil  and  be 
paid  off  in  the  consul's  office  for  my  two  years'  labor.  There 
is  a  mail-boat  next  week,  and  perhaps  I  shall  board  her, 
passenger-fashion,  and  go  across  the  blue  Mediterranean, 


«  A    IX)IVr   SAID    MI>(  EU.ANY 

through  sunny  Framv.  nrross  thr  KngliNli  ('h;inn«*I.  where 
the  I'olynt^siim  slaiuls  hy  fort'vor,  up  thr«>uj:h  Susm'X  or- 
chards nud  oviT  Surn-y  downs.  Am<1  iwrliaps,  as  I  idle 
away  thr  auttnnn  in  the  dim  iM'auty  of  lh«'  K^m-x  foiilaiul, 
and  as  we  tlrive  in  th<*  |>ony-<-art  throu^'h  thr  hmcs,  we 
shall  stop  and  the  children  will  say,  'If  you  stand  up,  you 
can  MV  the  sea.* 

Perhaps.  Who  knows? 


ATLANTIC  READINGS 


Teachers  everywhere  are  cordially  welcominj;  our 
series  of  Atlantic  Readings:  for  material  not  otherwise 
available  is  here  published  for  classroom  use  in  conven- 
ient and  inexpensive  form.  In  most  cases  the  selections 
reprinted  have  been  suggested  by  teachers  in  schools  and 
colleges  \\  here  a  need  for  a  particular  essay  or  story  has 
been  urgently  felt.  Supplied  for  one  institution,  the  re- 
print has  created  an  immediate  market  elsewhere. 

The  Atlantic  Monthly  Press  most  warmly  invites 
conference  and  correspondence  that  will  suggest  additions 
to  this  growing  list.  It  is  of  course  apparent  from  the 
titles  below  that  the  material  is  chosen  only  in  part  from 
the  files  of  the  Atlantic  Monthly. 

The  titles  already  published  follow: — 

1.  THE  LIE  8.  INTENSIVE  LIVING 

By  Maxy  Antin  By  Cornelia  A.  P.  Comer 

'•  ""%  WillTam  Ad^'dLan  Ganoe        »•  T"E  PRELIMINARIES 

3.  JUNGLE  NIGHT  ^^  ^°'°^'"  ^-  ^^  ^"°^^' 

By  William  Beebe  10.  THE   MORAL   EQUIVA- 

4.  AN  ENGLISHWOMAN'S  LENT  OF  WAR 
MESSAGE  By  William  James 

By  Mrs.  A.  Burnett-Smith 

5.  A  FATHER  TO  HIS  FRESH-       ^'-  ™^; /TUD Y  OF  POETRY 
MAN  SON  "^  Matthew  Arnold 

A  FATHER  TO  HIS  GRAD-       12.  BOOKS 

UATE  GIRL  By  Arthur  C.  Benson 

.^J^^iT:^T?'."/TcnJ^/T'IxTv       13.  ON  COMPOSITION 
^    A  PORT  SAID  MISCELLANY  p    j  ^^^^^j^  H^^^ 

By  William  McFee  ^ 

7    EDUCATION:  The  Mastery  H.  THE  BASIC  PROBLEM  OF 

OK  THE  Arts  of  Life  DEMOCRACY 

By  Arthur  E.  Morgan  By  Walter  Lippmann 

15.  THE  PILGRIMS  OF  PLYMOUTH 
By  Henry  Cabot  Lodge 

Other  titles  to  follow 

List  Price,  15  cents  each 
Except  Number  IB,  t5e 

THE    ATLANTIC    MONTHLY    PRESS,  Inc. 

8    ARLINGTON    STREET,    BOSTON    (17) 


THIS  BOOK  18  DUE  ON  THE  LAST  DATE 
STAMPED  BELOW 


AN  INITIAL  FINE  OF  25  CENTS 

WILL  BE  ASSESSED  FOR  FAILURE  TO  RETURN 
THIS  BOOK  ON  THE  DATE  DUE.  THE  PENALTY 
WILL  INCREASE  TO  80  CENTS  ON  THE  FOURTH 
DAY  AND  TO  » 1  OO  ON  THE  SEVENTH  DAY 
OVERDUE 


NOV  5  im 


OCT  gTlMI 


L 


LDSI-9' 


4 


879972 


THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


^z;." 


